


Like A Good Scotch

by EverShadow



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverShadow/pseuds/EverShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A midnight practice reveals some personal fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Good Scotch

Hope wakes up in the darkness to the smell of $15 dollar tequila, sweat, and the faint traces of burnt sheets. Her eyes take a moment to adjust before she realizes why she woke up in the first place. Her arms are empty, and, as she rolls over to look at the clock - blindingly bright in the pitch black - they have been for at least an hour. Her position still hold the imprint of a large, warm, solid forward and she sits up, troubled by her disappearance.

Tobin is passed out in the tub and when Hope trips over Kelley, Tobin’s eyes open and she sits up as well.

“You need to use the restroom?” Her voice is completely level and sober. Hope shakes her head.

“No. Where did Abby go?” She asks. Tobin settles back down in the tub onto her pillow and shrugs.

“Left a little while ago. Stepped on Kelley’s stomach.” In response to her physical abuse from both the goalkeeper and the forward, Kelley groans pitifully and rolls closer to the wall. For once, Hope is glad that at least one of the team does not drink.

“Thanks Tobs.” She says before opening the door. Somewhere in the background, A-Rod cries out in protest when the room fills with light for a moment. Hope ignores her, and walks out. Hope stands in the middle of the hotel hallway and looks from one end to the other. She doesn’t know why, but she wants to find Abby, to make sure she’s ok. Her demeanor at the party was normal, filled with mirth and celebration of their gold medal win, but when they settled down to sleep, Hope could feel the tension in Abby’s back as she held her close. And when she drifted off into sleep, she could sense that Abby’s eyes were still open and her mind still working.

She follows images of Abby into the lobby, thinking how the forward must’ve walked, back hunched, hands in pocket to the elevator. She imagines her silhouette leaning back against the wall opposite. Hope stares into empty space until the elevator arrives. The lobby is empty when she gets there and she looks around the chairs, the bars, and the dark corners where the soccer star might’ve been hiding. When her search turns up empty, she rings the desk bell.

“Need something?” The attendant’s eyes are red and he coughs to clear his throat.

“Sorry to bother you, did you see Abby Wambach come by? She’s tall, big, soccer player?” She finds herself explaining to the hotel attendant Abby’s description unnecessarily.

“Sorry.” His face colors. “I, uh, must’ve dozed off.” She couldn’t blame him, it was 3 in the morning after all.

“Thanks.” She says. She heads back up to the room, thinking that she would wait until morning to ask Abby what was wrong. A-Rod lets out a stream of expletives when she opens the door again. Kelley instinctively pushes herself into the wall to avoid any more feet from damaging her body. That’s when Hope notices that the soccer ball Kelley had fallen asleep spooning was gone. It’s purely a guess, but Hope lets that take her back down the hall, to the lobby and out the door.

It is a cold night in London, typically misty and dark. She breaks into a light jog, unsettling the contents of her stomach but she ignores it. It feels good, in a way. Her muscles ache and protest the extra exercise, but every step clears her mind just a little more. She hears the sound of a foot hitting a ball, and the ball hitting the net, making it rattle with force. She knows who it is before she sees them. There’s a single field light trained on the field. And from the stands she sees Abby walking slowly to the net to fetch the soccer ball. She’s not sure if Abby could hear her approach and just ignored it, or if she was simply too focused on getting the ball into the net but she gets within five feet of the forward before Abby says anything.

“What are you doing here?” Abby’s voice is unamused and her drenched shirt signals that she’d been here for a while.

“I could ask the same.” Hope takes a seat on the sidelines while Abby rockets another ball into the top left corner, barely missing the crossbar.

“Just needed some air.” Hope knows better than to press. She knows in time, Abby will tire herself out, get frustrated and explain it all. So she sits quietly with legs straight, leaning back on her elbows and watches. Abby has always been a dominating figure on the field. Against Japan, she seemed like the Goliath to Japan’s David. But alone on the field, with the vast empty expanse of seats and green, Abby looks a little lost and very small. Hope stares at Abby’s hair and thinks about how long it has gotten since she cut it last. She remembers when it was longer and blond, and tied back in a ponytail. She’s sure Abby remembers when hers was equally light. 

“You know we won, right?” Hope jokes and to her relief, Abby smiles and laughs through her teeth, a hushed, short sound. She shoots again, and this time it bounces off the side bar and bounces off towards the corner. Abby doesn’t retrieve it. She stares at the empty net, sniffs and wipes the sweat off her cheek.

“I’m old, Hope.” The statement jolts Hope out of her trance.

“Yeah, ok.” Hope laughs.

“I’m serious.” And she has never looked more so. Her jaw clenches and she places her hands on her hips as she looks disappointedly towards the ball off in the corner. Hope sits up fully and her eyes clear. “I’m getting too old.”

“Please.” Hope gets to her feet and her bones creak. “Rampone is still kicking, literally.” She couldn’t contain a chuckle at her pun and Abby manages a smile as well. She runs her fingers through her damp hair and sighs.

“I just...I feel it, Hope.” She starts walking towards the ball and Hope absently follows. Abby speaks quietly. “I felt it today more than ever. I just...I couldn’t react as fast, I couldn’t keep up with Alex, or the defenders. It was a struggle.”

“Hey, hey, maybe you had an off day.” Hope wants to place a hand on Abby. She talked about slowing down, but Hope was breaking into a jog just to keep up with the forward. “Those Japanese players are so small and fast, it’s not just you.”

“You don’t understand, I just feel it.” Abby places her foot on the ball and rolls it around. She kicks it into the wall and it bounces back at her. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m scared. Every year, no, every practice, those kids, they’re improving. Every time we step on the field, Alex gets faster, and I get slower.”

“That’s such bullshit.” Hope walks over and steals the ball from Abby and Abby lets her take it. Not knowing what to do with the ball, the goalkeeper kicks it clear to the other side and the two follow it like moths to light. “You are not getting slower.”

“One day, they’re not going to call my name. They’re going to call everyone but me. And then what do I do?” She pauses for a moment, as if the thought froze her with fear. Hope looks at her face, saw the way her mouth turned down, and sees the scared look in her eyes as the possibility washes over her, turning her rigid and cold. Hope wants to lay out the endless amount of options: live on the endorsements, coach teams, go back to school, take up another sport but she when she follows Abby’s gaze, the way it never leaves the ball, she cannot bring herself to say it. Those words would fall on deaf ears. Abby knew one thing, lived for it and breathed it.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.” Abby whispers. Hope starts towards Abby but at the last minute, just as her hand was about to reach up and brush Abby’s jaw, to turn it towards her, she veers off and jogs towards the soccer ball.

“Hey.” She shouts from the distance. “Here!” Abby catches the ball in her arms smoothly and Hope sprints into the net. “I don’t think you’re old. If I block 5 shots in the next half an hour, yeah, yeah, it’s time for you to retire you old granny. Come on, come at me.” She prays that Abby takes the bait. Abby stares at her for a moment, and Hope crouches. Her uncertainty does not show on her face, but on the inside, her heart races a million beats per second.

She must be getting old, because the soccer ball flies towards her and she barely has a second to react. Her fingertips graze the edge of the ball, putting a spin on it but only assists it in hitting the back of the net. She collapses on the ground as Abby’s laugh fills the stadium. Her eyes glitter in the dark, and she throws her head back. The light catches the flecks of sweat from her hair, and her teeth glow as she approaches the net.

“That was unfair! I wasn’t ready!” Hope complains. Abby puts up her hands, signally defeat.

“Fine. Let’s do this right.” Hope throws her the ball and Abby sends another one shooting past her outstretched arms into right corner.

Hope sports a nice hip bruise after the half an hour and Abby’s smile gleams as they walk towards each other.

“Four. Four out of thirty-two” Hope says, putting up an equal amount of fingers. “You’ve still got it.”

“Whatever.” Abby shoulder checks her and Hope reaches up to catch her in a headlock. They tussle around for a minute, until Abby breaks free and they both fall to the ground laughing. Abby’s the first to get up and she offers a hand to the downed goalkeeper. Hope’s eyes follow the trail of soccer scars on Abby’s arms, a detailed map of her journey to make it to this point. Her hands are solid and warm when they close around Hope’s.

“Hey.” Hope doesn’t let go of Abby’s hand when they’re both standing and she brings her other arm around. Her hands find the back of Abby’s head and she pulls the forward in until they’re pressing their lips together. Abby’s free hand is outstretched, as if the move surprised her but the action did anything but. They both knew what it was, and what it wasn’t. Years of playing together, of doing exactly this had disillusioned both of them to the idea that this was anything more than a platonic kiss, meant mostly for comfort and to stave off whatever sadness they had at the time - loneliness, loss, and now the fear of becoming obsolete and fading into the background of discarded soccer yearbooks.

Abby sometimes forgets that was all it was, so when she leans into the kiss more than she should, with her hand finding Hope’s hip, Hope breaks away. They’re quiet for a moment and Hope is keenly aware of Abby’s eyes intensely locked onto her lips, her breath strained and wanting more. Hope toys with the idea of another one, but she knew where it would inevitably lead if she were to do it again. She has just enough willpower to smile and take a step back.

“Feeling better?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Abby’s gaze never leaves Hope’s mouth, and her arms are still outstretched, inviting Hope to come back. She looks disappointed that it ended so quickly, her eyebrows are knit together like a needy labrador.

“Good. Do you want to head back?” Hope gathers the soccer ball and her rumpled sweatshirt from the sidelines. When she turns around, Abby is still watching her with that pitiful look on her face.

“Yeah.” Abby repeats and Hope starts walking with the forward trailing. They make it up the stands before Hope turns around to look at Abby again. Her hands are in her pockets and her shoulders are hunched. She’s staring at the ground, and Hope holds back just a little bit.

“Abby.” The name escapes her lips before she can think through what she’s doing. She tosses the soccer ball at her again and the forward catches it with some surprise. Hope waits until Abby, confused and cautious, walks up to her side. She slips her hand into Abby’s pocket, finding the forward’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. She wants to say something, to tell her again that she’s not old, that she’s got a few more years. But the muscles in Abby’s neck loosen, and Abby squeezes her hand just right and Hope thinks saying anything would cheapen the moment. She rests her head on Abby’s shoulder, and they walk like that a few steps until the position becomes awkward and impractical.

When they reach the hotel, they let go of each other’s hand and Abby walks into the lobby first. Hope trails her, staring at the number on her back until they reach the elevator. The ride up crawls, and Hope wonders if they are going to kiss again when Abby glances over. She looks like she wants to, but doesn’t decide until the elevator door opens and decides for her. A-Rod doesn’t make a sound when they open the door, and Kelley has relocated to the bathroom floor, wrapped in towels for warmth. Tobin’s a light sleeper, and when the two sneak in, her eyes follow them in the dark for a second before she collapses back onto her pillow and lets out a relieved sigh.

The bed is a welcome, if not too warm relief. Hope slides under the sheets and Abby follows shortly after taking off her socks. She presses her chest into Hope’s back and it's like lying next to a heated wall. Their hands find each other and Abby wraps her solidly around the chest. Hope quiets, and lets the sounds of the room wash over her. She doesn’t fall asleep until she feels Abby relax against her and her breath steady and calm against her neck.


End file.
